“The bicycle is the most civilized conveyance known to man. Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. Only the bicycle remains pure in heart.”

Iris Murdoch, The Red and the Green

MONSIEUR MARK BLEWITT

It seems that cycling is filled with Marks, Mark Florence, Mark Pinder, Marc Madiot, Marco Pantani and Mark Blewitt.

Here in the photo, a badly taken one I might add, he is in full flight on a windy, rainy day on the Killarney Race Track. Flying by me at 55km/ph and a relentless peloton who acted with indecision and so Mark took the chance and they never caught him all day having to fight for consolation positions.

That day Mark was so strong, at one time he sat up and looked around and asked the race referees; 'what's going on no-one's chasing me', but they were chasing him they were just that far behind, he was leading by almost a full lap, how they let him get away only god knows but he went on to a great solo victory.

We had been friends for a long time and during his years of racing in France he regularly kept me posted on all the happenings. He stayed and raced in Toulouse for a long time.

I also remember him racing in the Milk Race, in those days because of the beast in South Africa, called apartheid; our professional teams were not allowed to participate in international races. When a relationship between the then present governments was forged with Mr. Nelson Mandela and his release was imminent, these strict rules begun to slacken, so off to England Willie Engelbrecht and his team went. They came last mostly day to day and Mark got better placings on each day ahead of the South African professional squad.

He was such a fine rider and in one of his letters to me he wrote: “…Sebastian you should see these mountains it will be embedded in your brain forever. I cycle 100kms just to get to my first race, and then race 120kms only to cycle 100km back over mountains back home again…” of course Mark used more colourful language to make his point. Jai D’ Amours, my two loves; cycling and France, when it gets to July each year and I am not at the Tour my heart sinks and I so miss France.

If there is one rider that trained for miles and miles, it’s Mark Blewitt. The Peninsula Cycling Club that we cycled for in years to come would have an annual training camp each year starting in Cape Town and finishing in George. One such time Victor Johnstone told me they saw a lonely figure in the middle of nowhere many miles away from George. As they came closer they discovered it was Mark, he turned around and went all the way back again. This particular type of training I adopted; LSD…long steady distance.

The MBK cycling jersey in the above photograph has a short history too, or is it long history? Mark Blewitt was a friend of Marc Madiot of the Madiot duo in France who had raced in le Grand Boucle on several occasions. This jersey kept me warm on cold windy days while training in Cape Town. So from the shoulders of Marc Madiot to the shoulders of Mark Blewitt to Sebastian Engelbrecht and I still have it today.

The last time I saw Mark Blewitt was while training along Suikerbossie one morning in 2007 just before leaving for Australia, he has moved on in years as we all do and the scar of age has found her way into his form but this is how I remember him. He shall always remain a dear friend.

KILLARNEY AND THE CHANGING TIMES

KILLARNEY RACING CIRCUIT

Circuit length: 3.267km
Country: South Africa

City: Cape Town Area: Killarney Gardens

All those who were serious about racing and wanted to make some spare money new all to well where to find themselves on Wednesday late afternoons. Organized by the SACF, different groups depending on your classification would race ‘Kermesse’ around the motor racing track in Milnerton.

It was flat fast and 99% of the time there were very strong winds. One thing that I had learned was that I had a climber’s body frame, so I was to use it to my advantage, I would make myself as small as possible, push light gears and not resist the wind and since then I never feared racing in the wind again.

From Cl

aremont to Simonstown into the wind I would train against the strongest winds they called the Cape Doctor and on Wednesdays at Killarney.

This was racing at its best, lots of spectators, and all the best riders even the likes of Willie Engelbrecht occasionally.

Mark Florence was there too, so too all the riders I have mentioned thus far in this blog.

The racing consisted of:

1 hour + 1 lap. 3.267km circuit usually did about 45km, sometimes higher, average always between 40 and 45km/h.

By the time the racing was over and we cycled home I would easy cover 150km just on that day alone. When I got home I was high as a kite, a natural high that felt so good and these guys know of what I speak.

For what it is worth these races STILL happen but are dominated by the teams rather than individuals. This has made them very cut-throat rather than straight hard-core, which is good for racing standards but unattractive to the more casual riders.

And even in the days when we were racing the casual riders suffered, so racing here has always been hard and it doesn’t seem to be slacking down.

I think of these times as if it were yesterday, the times we’ve had and shared but the merciless progression of time has crept up on us all.

I looked at the teams racing the Giro Del Capo this year and the only ones I personally know are Malcolm Langer, Moolman Welgemoed, Peter Wheeler, Nick White and Manni Hymans I don’t know personally but I know who he is.

As for the rest I don’t know who they are at all but that stands to reason as I no longer stay and live in ZA. How times have changed…

Its amazing the way time moves, forward, constantly, endlessly yet so very still, immovable, just here, this one single moment.

Motorcars: Photo courtesy Fantastic Racing

THE SOUTH AFRICAN RYDER

I don’t even remember how Douglas Ryder and I met; all I do remember is that he was young when I met him. And I also remember he stayed with his father in Claremont.

It is quite funny how I got myself into these situations meeting the likes of Douglas and then going on to forge a relationship for many years to come, on and off the bike.

One day I went around to Douglas’ house, this would be my first ride with him. The house was dimly lit and quiet, now thinking back I got the feeling that it was some Zen temple and as I followed him to his bedroom, that’s where it ended. He seemed to be living out of a suitcase from a television clip on the life of Phil Anderson preparing to leave Colorado for the Tour de France. Needles to say the Douglas I know now, is meticulous and tidy.

The direction he chose to take me was to Blouberg Strand; I hated that place… hated racing there, hated training there and disliked the red necks that stayed and lived there.

It was a flat land along the West Coast of the Cape Peninsula where every other day you were met by block head winds. I was skinny and loved going up hill and as of yet had not mastered the wind. Whenever we race in this area I would just go straight out the back and inevitably I would be on my own for miles and miles, to strong for the riders coming up behind me and to weak to be with the front bunch…

And wind or Douglas Ryder I don’t know which was worse and to make matters even worse I am almost certain as memory recalls we had first gone over Constantia Neck and then Suikerbossie.By the time we got to Milnerton Douglas was ahead of me by about 500m. Demoralized and furious I tried as best as I could, he looked over his shoulder and waited for me only to repeat what had just happened.

The thing is these guys including Douglas whenever they trained with me always expected more from me, they would ride with riders better than me on training riders and it wouldn’t matter if these better riders got dropped but whenever it was me they didn’t think I should be dropped. I wonder why they always expected so much of me?

Of all the cyclist in the world that I have trained with and I have trained with many Douglas Ryder was the worst, he always dropped me when it was just the two of us and I got the impression he did it just to me.It was on this day that we ended up at the home of Moolman Welgemoed.Moolman was a shear animal on the bike, like Sean Yates, it was great to meet him and so I made another cycling buddy through Douglas.

As the years went by Douglas would win many races and eventually leave Cape Town to race in Johannesburg as it was said the racing is much faster and harder there as all the professional cycling teams were based there. Much later I would do the same.

One day I was walking by McDonalds with my daughter and I kept hearing someone whistle then calling my name, it wasn’t loud at all so I could not see anyone. Then there it was again, I looked left and this time I saw Douglas and his wife. They waved me over to join them at one of the tables and we got talking as we had not seen each other in quite some time. Later on we got into a debate over the fact that his wife and I thought that somehow being in Johannesburg numbed ones climbing edge. Johannesburg is very undulating and most races are held on flat roads or rolling hillocks, the speeds are in excess of 60-70km/ph and in the first 10kms there is just one single straight line, there is not even an arrow-head, when I raced in some of these races and at the half way mark was still with the top contenders I was shocked out of my socks sometimes, I had no idea I could go this fast on the flats.

Douglas disagreed with his wife and me completely so we agreed to disagree. It was such a pleasure to connect again. Douglas was now racing for the world famous Lotus IBM cycling squad who I would on many occasions ride with specifically Simon Kessler and Owen Hannie two very nice gentlemen.

The Lotus IBM Team

I ended up training with the team so much Owen gave me a jersey I was pleased to have as I was never going to buy myself one in the bicycle shops because it wasn’t the original team jersey.

One morning Owen, Douglas and I arrived at the team house in Sunning Hill. Alwyn Skeepers and Daniel Spence (I called him ‘Danny boy’) were watching some soap opera called The Bold and the Beautiful. We could not get them away from the show; apparently this was there daily mantra.

Eventually we were on our way to Pretoria, once in Pretoria we would sprint up a ‘mother’ of a climb free-wheel down and repeat the sprint for nearly an hour.

This would be one of the hardest training rides I would ever do. I had youthful looks but I certainly was no youth but these guys thought otherwise. By the time shadows begun to creep over the road we had already covered 120kms, we still had the better part of 45kms to ride home. It was hot and dry the way Johannesburg gets and each time Douglas would send Alwyn back to pace me back into the group as I dropped off a few times in the closing miles. Then they all just slowed down to a snail space, Danny boy was upset and said;

”How can you be dropped off this much, you were the one I wanted to be like when I was young” or something to that effect.

I also remember him telling the others one time …”wow, that guy could climb man, he could climb…”

Well to hear words like that coming from a superlative rider who has now become a profession brought warmth to my heart and now ageing legs. Just goes to show there are always those watching you and better to be an example than a rider who makes enemies. That would not be the last time we trained together and as always we would be racing together on week-ends.

So as Uncle Bob Hope always use to say; “thanks for the memories!”

Douglas Ryder and the boys it was kind of you to let me in.

THE EGO SCREAMS TO ME

My ego screams to me, it calls my name, write Sebastian! write Sebastian!My ego calls because I am suppose to die, I am suppose to run around like a blue spider but in fact it is my ego that is dying.It is a slow and torturous death, as the ego is so very, very strong. So I heed the call one last time…I write, no eloquent speeches of accomplishment in academia, medicine, or sexual exploits, or religious hypocrisy, no I write about my friends, those who share the title of le cycliste for as the merciless progression of time catches up with us all I can recall for them wholesale the way we were. For each time we remember the way we were, we can smile.

QUELQUE CHOSE A' TE DIRE

Although I am completely english since birth my mother spoke afrikaans as her father was of German descent. who married a Khoisan woman and as things go the South Africans know how these things work so I just could not help but add this original piece sent to me by a friend recently who doesn't speak a word of afrikaans neither any Zulu and he is Zulu. Now there's one for the books...

Wedren kan beste haal uit jaers

Deur Ons Fietsryverslaggewer DIE klub Stedelikes se jaarlikse voorgee-wedren oor 85 km tussen Kaapstad en die Paarl kan môre weer die heel beste uit die voorste langasems haal. Die wedren word op 'n voorgee-grondslag beslis wat sake baie interessant kan maak. Geharde padjaers soos Gerard Genis, Fourie Kotze, Alwyn de Kock en Hendrik Lemmer sal dié slag lig moet loop vir minder bekende jaers wat met 'n goeie voorgee sal wegspring. As die beroepsjaer Carinus Lemmer môre deelneem, gaan hy moeilik gestuit word. Die jong Steve Viljoen en ander jong jaers soos Ian Gallard, Johan Giliomee, Hennie Cilliers, Mark Blewett en Kevin Green sal in hierdie wedren behoorlik getoets word. Genis-hulle sal teen 'n baie warm pas moet jaag om die voorgee-jaers in te haal en hierdie pas kan dalk te kwaai wees vir die jonger manne. Die wedren begin om 14:00 voor die kragsentrale by Paardeneiland en eindig by die Simonsvlei-wynkelder by die Paarl. Afsonderlike wedrenne vir vroue en skoolseuns word ook aangebied. Die vroue en skoolseuns o.17 spring om 14:30 weg in Adderleyweg naby Philadelphia en die o.15-skoolseuns om 14:00 by Phesantekraal. Al die wedrenne word op dieselfde roete of 'n deel daarvan gehou.

Even when they travel in packs, long-distance riders feel very alone.

"Your bike is your wife, your master, it's your best friend and all you want to do is succeed. And you don't think you're getting older and you don't think about what happens at home or with your family or who pays the bills. You don't mature because, on the road, life is going at 110 miles per hour and you don't have time to think how the world actually moves."

Stephen Roche, 1987 Champion